with earnestness, with a childlike simplicity, what woes his Majesty has suffered.  Woes great and small:  A Necker seen applauded, a Majesty not; then insurrection; want of due cash in Civil List; general want of cash, furniture and order; anarchy everywhere; Deficit never yet, in the smallest, ’choked or comble:’—­wherefore in brief His Majesty has retired towards a Place of Liberty; and, leaving Sanctions, Federation, and what Oaths there may be, to shift for themselves, does now refer—­to what, thinks an august Assembly?  To that ‘Declaration of the Twenty-third of June,’ with its “Seul il fera, He alone will make his People happy.”  As if that were not buried, deep enough, under two irrevocable Twelvemonths, and the wreck and rubbish of a whole Feudal World!  This strange autograph Letter the National Assembly decides on printing; on transmitting to the Eighty-three Departments, with exegetic commentary, short but pithy.  Commissioners also shall go forth on all sides; the People be exhorted; the Armies be increased; care taken that the Commonweal suffer no damage.—­And now, with a sublime air of calmness, nay of indifference, we ‘pass to the order of the day!’

By such sublime calmness, the terror of the People is calmed.  These gleaming Pike forests, which bristled fateful in the early sun, disappear again; the far-sounding Street-orators cease, or spout milder.  We are to have a civil war; let us have it then.  The King is gone; but National Assembly, but France and we remain.  The People also takes a great attitude; the People also is calm; motionless as a couchant lion.  With but a few broolings, some waggings of the tail; to shew what it will do!  Cazales, for instance, was beset by street-groups, and cries of Lanterne; but National Patrols easily delivered him.  Likewise all King’s effigies and statues, at least stucco ones, get abolished.  Even King’s names; the word Roi fades suddenly out of all shop-signs; the Royal Bengal Tiger itself, on the Boulevards, becomes the National Bengal one, Tigre National. (Walpoliana.)

How great is a calm couchant People!  On the morrow, men will say to one another:  “We have no King, yet we slept sound enough.”  On the morrow, fervent Achille de Chatelet, and Thomas Paine the rebellious Needleman, shall have the walls of Paris profusely plastered with their Placard; announcing that there must be a Republic! (Dumont, c. 16.)—­Need we add that Lafayette too, though at first menaced by Pikes, has taken a great attitude, or indeed the greatest of all?  Scouts and Aides-de-camp fly forth, vague, in quest and pursuit; young Romoeuf towards Valenciennes, though with small hope.